sixthiterationlogs | Not exactly the best day ever

WHO: Sam Wilson
WHERE: #14 The Plaza (Inside and Outside)
WHEN: Sept 10
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Language--probably
STATUS: Open

The earthquakes had been building for some time, though Sam hadn't noticed them until the bigger ones had hit. He hadn't been overly concerned, since in the grand scheme of things they weren't too bad. He hadn't noticed any major damage and no injuries were sustained. So far it had just been another inconvenience to deal with on top of everything else.

It's because of this that, when Sam is briefly at home taking a much needed break, he doesn't get concerned when the shaking begins. However, as the shaking increases, Sam realizes this isn't the same magnitude as before. Sam acts fast as the shaking gets worse, rolling out of bed and heading for the doorway. That's supposed to be the safest place, right?

The shaking grows stronger and Sam braces himself, doing his best to protect against any debris, though so far his house is still standing. He thinks he heard something loud crack, but he can't check on it now. Not until it's over. There's the sound of shattering glass in a distant room and he thinks he hears something blow.

Thankfully, it isn't long. The shaking gets weaker and, slowly, comes to an end. Sam coughs as the dust from the ceiling and the rest of the room gets in his face and sinuses. He wipes his face and steps forward. It doesn't take much observation to show Sam that his house isn't in the best shape. He sees cracks in the wall now and, as he walks out into his living room he groans.

"That's not getting fixed any time soon," he says when he sees the tree branch that had crashed through his front window. There was glass everywhere and, because he'd taken his shoes off, he was going to have to be careful getting across the floor. He takes a careful step and winces when, as he steps down, he feels water starting to seep through the floor and into the carpet. His socks are now soaked, on top of everything else. "Son of a--are you kidding me right now?"

Sam makes his way to his front porch, the door falling off as he tries to open it. He sighs as he drops onto the front steps. So, he's got a cracked wall, broken window (possibly multiple windows if he checks the other rooms and walls for that matter), and a busted pipe somewhere that is now flooding his house. Oh, and his socks are wet and his door fell off its hinges. He's not sure why he's upset about this, it's not like he even spent that much time on the house. Maybe it's what it represents, another damn thing to fall apart around here.

"I hate this damn place," he grumbles, not sure what he wants to do now -- except maybe just sit for a bit. He'd hit a new low and he knew it. He also knew he couldn't afford to be in a funk right now, but you know what they say about misery.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sam lets out a heavy sigh, looking up and trying to shake off his funk. No sense in mourning a house that wasn't even that lived in. "Broken windows, cracked walls and possibly the foundation. There's also some flooding going on in there." It's why is front porch has puddles and his own feet are soaking wet. Natasha might also notice a pair of pink-ish socks discarded next to him. "Also, I think I might have stepped in some glass on my way out, but I don't think the cut is that bad."

He looks over his shoulder at the house, "That was just what I saw when I was getting out--not sure what other damage there might be towards the back. Gotta go back in for some stuff though."

Sam then turns back to her, giving her a once over, "You okay?"

Houses can be fixed, even ones that have that much damage — she'll take him having a cut on his foot over a possible worst case scenario. She nods, briefly glancing from the socks to his feet and then back up to him.

"I'm fine. Let me help you, we should at least find you some shoes so something worse than a scratch doesn't happen to your feet."

She trots up to the house, puts her weight on the door frame before she steps inside. It feels like it'll hold, at least long enough for her to make her way through and try to find his shoes, and whatever else he might need.

"There are a lot of rooms at the inn," she calls out over her shoulder. Her steps in the house are careful — there's no telling if the floors are weak enough to not hold her weight, slight as she is. She's not in the mood to injure herself today.

Sam gestures with a tilt of his head towards the porch, "Leave my boots out here, usually over there. Earthquake might have moved them a bit. Mostly I'm going to need new socks." And a new place to stay, but hopefully he can salvage his supplies.

Sam shifts on the porch, moving to get back up on his feet, "Be careful in there. It's flooding already and I don't think it's very stable besides." He hops closer, he doesn't plan on going back in the house yet, but he can at least watch from the door way. "Yeah, I figured that'd be good for a bit. But I kinda like having my own place -- I spend enough time at the inn as it is."

She can find socks, too, if he needs them, and she steps through the growing water puddles towards what was probably his room. There's the sound of Natasha moving some debris, and then she's back, a little quicker this time, now that she's sure the floor will hold her weight (for now). She hands him the socks, glances back over her shoulder to the interior of his former house.

"Well," she says, glancing around to see what else they can salvage before turning back to him. "We should make sure there isn't any glass in your foot before we have you walk on it, regardless of where you're walking to. What else do you need from in there?"

"Yeah. Probably right. Last thin we need is an infection, right?" Especially since it's his foot. The place is bad enough without considering disease and illness. Sam considers her question, "I'll need my pack. Didn't really move into this house despite being here for a few months. I figured it'd be best to keep my supplies together in the bag I came with. It should be right there by the door though," he remarks, gesturing back to the interior of the house. At least that he had kept handy.

He accepts the socks, moving back to the edge of the porch and dropping back down into a seated position. Without much ceremony he pulls off the ruined pair and twists his foot to inspect it -- of course the lighting isn't that great and he's looking at his foot from an odd angle. But he doesn't see anything obvious.

Natasha pops back inside briefly to grab the bag and make one more scan to see if there's anything within reach that'd be useful. There's nothing that they can't retrieve later, when the house has either collapsed fully or they're sure it won't. Satisfied, Natasha leaves the house fully and drops the bag at Sam's side, sitting down at the other. She pats her thighs, and then motions to him.

"Let me."

Sam sighs, realizing he probably looks pretty ridiculous. Still, he complies with Natasha's request and offers her his foot. She'd be able to do more about it anyway and it wouldn't be nearly as uncomfortable as terrible yoga poses.

"I'm hoping it's not too bad," he says, sounding a little worried that it might be.

She's careful when she presses her fingers to the sole of his foot — she doesn't want to tickle him, just check the cut. But she doesn't see or feel any glass in it, and it doesn't look deep enough that it'll need stitches. If they had access to bandaids, she'd recommend that he put one on, but it's not going to kill him if it doesn't. She pats his shin with a smile, and releases his foot.

"I don't think we'll need to amputate," she says with a grin, leaning back on the steps. "It should heal on it's own fine. We could probably find something to make a temporary bandaid but I don't think it'll need it."

"Thanks Doc, your expert opinion means so much," he replies with his own grin to match. He is relieved that the wound is just as minor as he originally thought. There was a small part of him that had been paranoid it was worse of course. He sighed, leaning back, "Well, about the only thing I can think of is the rags and scraps of material that Miss Kate keeps a stock of. I used them for her injury awhile back...she has a whole basket full of the stuff. I'm sure she wouldn't mind or we can find some material scraps of our own."

Natasha snorts at his thank you, stretches out her legs and crosses her feet at the ankle and glances back at the ruined structure behind them while he speaks, turning her gaze to him after a moment.

"If you don't think it'll be a waste. It's a small cut, just keep an eye out for infection and keep your socks clean, so you shouldn't need it. Still," she says, trailing off a bit, turning her gaze to the horizon, a small frown crossing her features.

"A first aid kit wouldn't be a terrible idea in general. Glass in someone's foot is a best case scenario."

Sam decides sitting for a moment isn't a bad idea. He finally relaxes a little now that the crisis is mostly over. Sometimes it's important to appreciate a moment like this -- however brief and however ridiculous it might be to just sit on the ground after an earthquake and an injured foot.

"I think I can manage that," he finally says when he has Natasha's attention again. "Guess you could add that to the general wish list around here. But you're right...as far as I know Miss Kate's had the worst injury and I'm still not sure if she's fully recovered from that." Luckily he'd had a cursory knowledge of first aid to help her, but if it had been worst than that? He doesn't like to think about it, but what could they have done?

Not exactly the best day ever

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